by Avery Aster
Unable to see her beautiful face sad, I turn and head for the door.
Neve doesn’t come after me.
I pack my suitcase. I call a car. And I leave.
Just Like Reese Witherspoon
Manhattan
Neve
Celebrity Newlywed Boot Camp breaks all Neilson TV rating records upon airing. The publicity machine otherwise known as Brill, Inc. is over-the-top fabulous. Macy’s buys into my handbag line. Universal Pictures offers me a scripted movie contract. My relationship with Vicky is going better than expected.
“Everything in my life is going so well,” I try to affirm my positive thoughts to Taddy and Kiki, who stop by my penthouse on Christmas Eve to toast my good news. “Then why do I feel so shitty?” My nose congests with sadness.
“Blow.” Kiki hands me a tissue.
“You know, I’ve cried every day since we stopped filming.”
“Maybe you can’t have it all,” Taddy suggests while bouncing one of her Shih Tzu’s on her lap. The dog is colored in her favorite shade of red. Something tells me she didn’t color her pooch’s hair just for Christmas, but that it’s like this all the time.
“Have you talked to Sheldon?” Kiki asks with a worry in her eyes.
“He won’t return my calls. Instead he messengered over his signed copy of our divorce papers.” I point to the large manila envelope on the foyer table.
“Yikes.” Taddy leans forward, crosses her legs, and offers, “Let’s play this out for a minute. The only thing that’s stopping you from living happily ever after with Sheldon is that he refuses to do another reality show with you, correct?”
“Uh-huh.” I dry my eyes with the other side of the tissue.
“So, let’s assume this movie that you’re about to do launches you into the next stratosphere and you never have to do another reality show again.”
“That’s a possibility,” Kiki agrees.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I force a smile.
“Look, Neve. There’s a slew of husbands who refuse to be on TV with their wives, but ladies press on with their reality shows.”
“Oh really. Like who?”
“Kim and Kanye.”
I sigh.
“Perhaps it’s true what celebs say. Stars can’t marry ordinary people,” I conclude.
“Sweet Jesus crap-a-licious, that is bullshit and you know it.” Taddy pets her dog.
“Look at Matt Damon. He married that bartender girl, Luciana. Didn’t Reese Witherspoon marry some average Joe named Jim? Or was it John? Julia Roberts also married a non-celeb. So did Tina Fey, Meryl Streep, and Anne Hathaway.” Kiki rattles off names as if she’s on Hollywood Reporter.
“I have like ten other places I need to be right now.” Taddy glances at her tablet and says, “Make that eleven. I’m out. Why don’t I drop you off uptown at Sheldon’s. You two can work it out.”
“I can’t just show up at his place unannounced.” I’m in awe of how simple Taddy’s makes everything seem.
“What, you want a camera crew to follow you?” Taddy asks sarcastically.
Kiki gets to her feet. Taddy hands her the dog as she grabs my divorce papers. “Don’t sign these, but bring them with you. Come on.”
My stomach is in knots the entire way up to Harlem. Kiki holds my left hand, Taddy, my right. They both pump me with annoyingly positive statements to keep my spirit up and focused. I think I’m going to puke.
“Stop!” I shout as I spot a toy store on the corner of Amsterdam and Columbus. “I can’t go to their house empty-handed. I need to get Liam something.”
“Oh brother,” Taddy sighs.
“Good idea, Miss Adele.” Kiki slides over so I can get out of the SUV.
“I’ll be back in two seconds.” Pushing the door open I frantically look around the small shop. I imagine this place is privately owned. Dust on the shelves, candy lined up against the walls, it has that Upper West Side feel like it’s been here for decades. I love that about this town. But all I see are dolls. Blonde Barbie’s everywhere. “Do you have anything for boys? Age four or five?”
“Aisle three.” The clerk leads me to a shelf of toys. “Legos?”
“No.”
“Building blocks?”
“Nope.”
“What’s he like, lady?”
“I don’t know. He’s autistic.”
“My grandson is autistic. He’s obsessed with monster trucks. Come.” He takes me down the aisle and pulls out a blue and green plastic truck.
“Oh, that’s hysterical. It reminds me of my husband’s monster truck.” I say the word husband as if Sheldon and I have been married for twenty years. It feels good. It feels damn good.
“It’s twenty bucks.”
I hand him a fifty and tell him to keep the change.
Taddy and Kiki drops me off out front of the brownstone.
“You sure this is it?” I ask, suddenly unsure if I’m doing the right thing.
Taddy points to the open garage door with Stone Cold parked inside. A rush of nervousness races through me as I wave the girls off and head toward the stairs.
I ring the doorbell. No one answers. I ring it again.
On the other side of the glass, a little boy comes to the door and waves. His hair is the color of Sheldon’s.
“You must be Liam.”
“Yup. Yup. That’s me.” He waves back at me and then runs off.
The floor on the porch tremors a little; Sheldon must be making his way down the stairs. Soon I see his muscular frame facing me.
He opens the door and says nothing.
“I got your papers.”
“You sign them?”
I shake my head and offer, “I can’t. I don’t want to.”
“Come in.”
I follow him up the stairs to the living room. A Christmas tree with brightly colored flashing lights takes up a large corner next to the kitchen. The smell of pine fills my nostrils.
“That’s a pretty tree,” I compliment, placing Liam’s gift under it. “Just a little something he can open tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” he says, an expression of surprise on his face. “Before you start in on me, I want you to know upfront that I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Shel, I get it. Okay?” I push the sudden feeling of defeat out of my thoughts and focus on what I came here to do: tell the truth.
He lets out a loud sigh, as if it had been building inside him for days.
“Why are you here?”
“I told you, I wanted to drop off a gift for Liam.”
He shoots me a look like I’m lying. “The gift isn’t even wrapped.”
“I didn’t have any paper.” I laugh. “Seriously, I was so excited about seeing you that I didn’t think to wrap it.”
“It’s fine. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“I know.” This is so awkward. “I’m just going to come out and say this….”
“What?”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“I don’t want us to get a divorce,” I admit.
“Me either, but what you want for your life isn’t what I want for mine.”
“I can respect that.”
“You can?” His voice raises an octave.
“What would you say to you never having to go on camera again, but I continue to work as an actress?” As the words come out of my mouth, I feel as though I’m walking up to the edge of a cliff.
“No more reality shows?”
“Nope.”
He grins. “You mean it? You really think you can give up working with the likes of Lima and Tarla?”
My eyes narrow and I dip my chin, admiring his sarcasm. “Yeees.”
He steps forward and kisses me. Joy sings through my veins.
“Gross!” Liam yells and then giggles.
“We were just about getting ready to sit down and eat dinner. We’re celebrating tonight.” He pulls a chair out for me.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Ruby watched the show. She called me and said, and I quote, ‘If you’re willing to put yourself through such craziness to secure our son’s future, you may have primary custody. I’d like to have him every other weekend and on holidays.’”
“Oh, Sheldon, that’s such good news.”
“Ruby will be here in an hour to pick him up, and then I’ll get him after New Year’s.”
“I thought you were going to take him to Secrete St. Barthe with your brother and Taddy tomorrow?”
“I’m going to go alone.”
“Would you like your wife to go with you?”
He grins.
The Back Door Way
Saint Barthelemy
Sheldon
Sixty nine. Cowgirl. Doggy style. Face to face. The G-whiz. Stairway to heaven. Pole position. The bicycle. Face off. The ballet dancer. Good old missionary. Spooning. Sporking. The pretzel. X position. One up. Snow angel. The hot seat. Hovering butterfly. Spin cycle. Heir to the throne. Standing wheelbarrow. Reverse cowgirl. Sofa surfer. The butt churner. Mountain climber. On my back. Now on her stomach….
“Love this ass.” I bury my face deep between her cheeks, rimming her tight starburst pucker. A rush of pink stains her skin.
“Go gentle, Shel,” she bosses.
“Mmm.” The idea of finally fucking her tight ass sends my spirits flying. I prop her torso up with a body pillow. Climbing onto her backside, I massage her shoulders feeding her with my eager affection.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take. My skin feels like it’s gonna catch fire,” she pants breathlessly.
“What do you mean?” Gently, I rest the tip of my dick at her anus. My feelings for her intensify with every touch, every kiss, every moment that we’re together.
“We have been making love for three days straight. Sure we’ve had room service and taken a few breaks here and there to shower. But come on! I’m sore. Like really sore.” She tries to turn her head back to look at me.
“Please.” I hold onto her ponytail.
“Shel….”
“Just one more time,” I beg.
“I mean it.”
“A little anal,” I keep on begging.
“Then we’re done.” She arches her back up under me ready for another round.
Gently, I slide my cock deep inside her warm forbidden anus. This level of closeness is overwhelming—in a good way.
“Slow. Go slow.”
“Always,” I say, picking up rhythm. A thump lurches in my chest.
Her hands scurry under her, rubbing herself into a hot frenzy. I lean forward, drilling myself deeper inside her. She moans taking my girth. Allowing me this moment. Enjoying each other.
“Fuck. Yes. That’s it. Right there. Oh my. Yes. I can’t believe it. I’m going to come again.” Her body tenses. Mine does too.
A hot ache swells in my throat, travels down my torso, and rests at my nuts.
Kissing the back of her neck, my heartbeat starts to skyrocket. I quiver. My body jerks, toes curl, breath stops, and then I plant my hot seed.
I pull out and lay beside her. For a few minutes, we hold each other as if we are one.
“I have a surprise for you.” I reach over to the nightstand and take out a little box from Tiffany’s.
“You didn’t.” With a pleasing look on her face, she sits up.
“Open it.”
She takes the 4-carat diamond ring from the velvet case and studies it carefully. Reading the inscription on the inner platinum band she says, “To my reality star. Love, Shel.”
“You like?”
“Like? I love.”
“That’s the one thing we didn’t do to authenticate our marriage,” I admit. Leaning over, I say, “Now…are you going to tell me why you like ferns so much? Every time I smell your fragrance I think to ask, but don’t want to pry.”
“When I was little, Calista told me a Slavic tale about a fern which grew in our backyard. She said that if you watered the fern, talked to it, gave it sunshine, shade, and watched it grow, it would fill you with happiness. So, I spent many days in the yard, taking care of Calista’s ferns, hoping, praying for happiness to find me.”
“Your foster mom wanted you to care for something.”
She nods. “Years later, Calista told me that when you have a foster child that has never been loved or taken care of, like me, the best thing to do is teach them how to take care of something, like a plant, and in return, they’ll naturally start to care about themself.”
“That’s really beautiful, Neve.” I hold my wife’s hand feeling grateful to have her in my life.
“Go to sleep now.” I turn her over and spoon her backside.
“I love you, Shel.”
“I love you more, Wonder Woman.”
New York Times bestselling author Avery Aster pens The Manhattanites, a contemporary erotic romance series of full-length, stand-alone novels, and the naughty new adult prequel companion series The Undergrad Years. As a resident of New York’s Upper East Side and a graduate from New York University, Avery gives readers an inside look at the city’s glitzy nightlife, socialite sexcapades and tall tales of the über-rich and ultra-famous.
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The Undergrad Years
Love, Lex
Yours Truly, Taddy
XO, Blake
Always & Forever, Vive
The Manhattanites
Undressed
Unscrupulous
Unsaid
Unconventional
Unique
Uncensored
Actually, this time I have three smexy excerpts for you!
First up is my good friend Opal Carew with her marvelously sexy Christmas story, Big Package. I mean who doesn’t like nympho elves! See http://opalcarew.com/bookshelf/bigpackage.php
Next is another good friend, Evangeline Anderson with her Christmas story, Cougar Christmas, but this cougar prowls the corporate jungle....
To round out the trio, you can get a taste of my upcoming stand-alone, male/female/male erotic ménage romance Unique (The Manhattanites). See http://averyaster.com/unique/
Big Package
Opal Carew
Baby it’s cold outside…but things are about to heat up.
I missed the last bus to my sister’s for Christmas, and now I'm stranded in a bus station—in the middle of a blizzard—with a giant package covered in naughty wrapping paper.
Then he shows up: Kalen Welles, the football star from my high school fantasies—and offers me a ride.
Just when the car is getting cozy, the roads get shut down due to snow.
Luckily there’s a nearby cabin where we can hole up for the night.
A warm fireplace, cozy blankets, pent-up longing we both spent years ignoring… maybe I’ll be able to unwrap Kalen's big package before Christmas morning.
But when the snow clears and the ice melts, will the former football star and the shy nerd finally get a happy ending?
* * *
Holly stroked his cheek. “You look deep in thought.”
He smiled. “I’m just thinking how lucky I am right now.”
She laughed. “Because you’re going to get laid?”
His smile faded. “No, because . . .” He sat down on the bed beside her and stroked a long, shiny wave of hair behind her ear. “Because I’m here with you.”
/> He could see her cheeks turn to a deep rose. She wasn’t used to compliments.
“You don’t have to say things like that.” Her gaze averted.
He cupped her head and turned it back to face him.
“But it’s true, and I want you to know that.”
She lay back on the pillow and opened her arms. He leaned in close, as her arms curled around him, and kissed her. Her lips, so soft and warm, joined with his, sending his heart throbbing. Deepening the kiss ignited a burning passion, blazing through him like a flaming torch.
He wanted her. His cock ached to be buried deep inside her.
Their lips parted and he stroked the hair from her forehead, gazing into her wide, dark-brown eyes filled with longing. But he wanted to concentrate on her. Give her the pleasure she deserved.
He kissed her again, then cupped her luscious breasts. They were full and round and filled his hands nicely, the nipples hard beads pressing into his palms. He caressed the soft mounds, then dragged his thumbs over her nubs. She murmured in delight, desire flickering in her eyes.
“Your breasts are so beautiful.”
He kept his gaze locked with hers as he lowered his head to her. She watched him, her cheeks deepening in color again as he kissed her hard nub. The feel of it against his lips excited him. He took it into his mouth and nudged the nipple with his tongue several times, then swirled over it. When he began to suckle, her eyelids fell closed and she whimpered. The sound seeped into him and set his blood on fire.
He kissed down into the valley between her breasts, nuzzled between them, their softness cradling his face, then moved up again to the other nipple. His fingers stroked over the damp nub of the other breast as he suckled on this one. He drew the hard nub deep into his mouth, loving the sound of her soft moan.
He lifted his face and her eyelids opened again. He smiled and meandered down her stomach in a trail of light kisses. When he reached her panties, he kissed along the silky flesh above, then nipped the elastic and lifted. He hooked his finger underneath and tugged the fabric down, then pulled on the other side, too. She lifted her hips and he glided the lacy garment down. His gaze locked on her naked pussy—shaved bare—and then he pulled the panties all the way off and tossed them aside.
